


So Here's to Us Now

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Drunk Dancing, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Oblivious Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: Eddie is getting divorced and Richie is counting the days since they became impromptu roommates. He hopes that maybe, just maybe, Eddie will want to stay.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	So Here's to Us Now

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore the similar-if-you-squint title to my last fic and enjoy some pining Richie.

“So I uh, sent off my divorce papers,” Eddie says suddenly. Then he takes a long pull from his beer bottle. 

“Huh,” Says Richie, who is trying desperately to look understanding while his brain lets off fireworks and unfurls insensitive banners of 'finally!!! Fucking finally!!!’ he takes his eyes away from the nonsense Netflix movie they’d put on just to make fun of, and peers at Eddie cautiously. 

“Yuh, so, I’m like. Divorced I guess. Well, when it all goes through anyway,” Eddie says, fidgeting with the bottle. Fingers wet with condensation. 

“And how do you... Feel... about that?” Richie asks awkwardly.

Eddie snorts. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, I’m just trying to be supportive,” Richie says, a little defensively, “I’ve never been divorced let alone married so I’m not sure how you might be feeling about it all-“

“Relieved,” Eddie says, cutting him off. He places the bottle carefully back on its coaster and fiddles with it until it’s perfectly centred, label facing outward. 

“...Oh,” Richie manages dumbly. 

“Yeah I mean, after... Everything. I realised that I just don’t have the feelings I should have for her. And that I haven’t for a long time,” Eddie says the last part quietly, looking anywhere but at Richie. 

Richie’s glee definitely dampens at that, and then dampens further at the guilty and hurt look that overcomes Eddie’s face. 

“That’s not your fault Eds. When you’re close to someone, sometimes it’s like, hard to work out how exactly you’re feeling. Good or bad. But you figured it out and made a decision. So good for you.” 

Eddie nods like he understands. 

Richie breathes a sigh of relief because he is absolutely _not_ good at _any_ of this emotional stuff. Usually he eases his own emotional discomfort with humour, a habit he gives into now because the silence between them is suddenly too tense. 

“Look on the bright side. We can find you a girl who’s not going to crush you to death if she rides you cowgirl style.”

Eddie groans. “Richie. Please.”

“What? Did that bring back unpleasant memories? I bet she was a real mover and shaker-“

Eddie punches him in the thigh, and fuck does it hurt, leaving behind a throbbing bone deep ache, but it also makes him laugh.

"Beep fuckin _beep_, asshole."

Eddie tries to hide a smile but Richie still sees it, tilting the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m going to bed,” Eddie announces.

“Sure,” Richie says - rubbing his sore thigh - and watches as Eddie hesitates as though contemplating something before he eases himself off the couch and stretches. 

“G'night dipshit,” Eddie says as he carries the trash from their snacking session out to the kitchen.

“G’night _Eddie-Bear_,” Richie sing songs. 

Richie hears Eddie grumble at the nickname, sort the recycling and then fill up a glass of water. Eventually Richie hears the shuffle of Eddie’s socked feet on carpet and then the click of the spare bedroom door. Well, what used to be a spare bedroom. Now it’s Eddie’s room. Officially but not officially. 

After Derry, Eddie hadn’t been home five minutes before Richie had gotten a call asking if he could stay over for a couple of days. Those couple of days had turned into weeks. Then three months. Eddie had relocated to his firm's LA branch, started paying half the bills and now they were essentially roommates. Eating pizza, playing video games and watching shitty movies like the good old days. And it’s... Nice. Good. Awesome. 

Except every time Richie looks at Eddie his heart feels like it might explode out of his chest. 

***

A couple of weeks later, they’re sitting almost thigh to thigh on the couch again. Watching but not watching another terrible movie when Eddie says: “It’s official. I’m divorced.”

He’d been pretty quiet about the whole thing so once again Richie isn’t too sure how to proceed.

“Congratulations? You okay bud?”

Eddie nods breathing out a sigh. “It’s pretty uh, freeing? I guess.”

“Mm.”

Silence sits heavy between them as they both process Eddie’s new status. They’ve been sharing a lot of heavy silences recently. Richie doesn’t want to focus on why. 

“So, what? do you want to celebrate?” 

“I don’t know. But I do know I want to take some time being... single. Figure out some stuff.”

“Oh, cool,” Richie says. A little thrown by Eddie’s airy and non-committal tone. 

Eddie looks at him then, a side glance, like he’s angry. Richie for the life of him can’t think why that might be. He’d actually tried super hard this time to be respectful and just listen and not make stupid comments. 

“Richie...” Eddie says. Then. “I’m going to bed.” 

Eddie looks at him again, his eyes are a little vulnerable and Richie’s heart aches. He doesn’t know what Eddie wants. 

“Okay, just let me know if you need anything okay?” And Richie means that. Really means that. He even managed to carry the tone in his voice. No mask of sarcasm or humour.

Eddie pauses, opens his mouth before shutting it tightly. He picks up his empty snack wrappers and heads into the kitchen. Richie hears him crash about like he usually does when he’s irritated by something (usually Richie) and then he’s stomping down the hall. His bedroom door shuts a little harder than usual. 

Richie is more confused than he’s ever been in his life. 

***

Richie explains the whole thing to Bev the next morning via WhatsApp in the back of a cab, while on the way to his agent's office. 

**Bev**

_Richie. Don’t take this the wrong way. But you can be surprisingly dense sometimes._

Richie frowns. What is that supposed to mean?

**Richie**

_What the fuck?_

**Bev**

_Have you heard of subtext?_

**Richie**

_Obviously not because I am trying and failing to interpret what the fuck you are talking about right now._

**Bev**

_Maybe what you’re waiting for, Eddie is waiting for the same thing. Someone to make the first move. _

Richie can feel his face heating up. No way does Eddie want that. He’s never given any indication that he thinks of Richie as more than a friend. A very close friend, but a friend nonetheless. 

After Derry Richie had told Bev about his stupid crush because even days later he still felt like he was running on adrenaline and he had to get it out. Had to tell someone. Had to vent before Eddie moved in and Richie let something slip. Before he went and ruined everything. 

**Richie**

_Did you hit your head Bev? He’s into women... women on the hefty side that look a LOT like his mother but definitely women. _

**Bev**

_Really? You sure about that? _

Richie locks his phone. There’s just no way. After a few minutes of angrily staring out of the window he checks his phone again. There are two messages.

**Bev**

_I don’t want to push you but I think you should say something. Even if it’s scary. Even if you have no idea about how he might react. Remember, there was a time when you almost didn’t have the chance. Now you do. So you should take it. _

Richie remembers the words from Stan’s letter. _Be who you want to be. Be proud. And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go. _

He reads the next message. 

**Eddie**

_What do you want for dinner dipshit? _

Richie locks his phone again. 

***

Dinner is a strange affair, as it has been for the last few weeks. Eddie concocts some kind of pasta dish, the pasta being soft and overcooked and the tomato sauce being over seasoned to the point that all Richie can taste is oregano. Myra had never really let Eddie cook all that often so at every opportunity he delights in throwing something together in the kitchen, sometimes good, oftentimes bad. Richie has been content to let him go nuts. 

There have even been a couple of mornings where Eddie has surprised Richie with bland scrambled eggs on toast and they’ve both sat on Richie’s bed, backs pressed to the headboard, munching their way through breakfast and watching TV together. 

It’s little oddly intimate moments like that, that make Richie think Bev might be onto something. But it could also be that Eddie is just lonely and in the process of getting a few things out of his system. Richie supposes that even if you don’t have feelings for someone anymore, their sudden absence from your life can be jarring. Eddie is probably just trying to figure out who he is without Myra, considering how overbearing she could be. According to Eddie. Richie has never met the woman but he’s seen pictures. She looks so much like Sonia that Richie can guess that she and Eddie’s mother had a fuck ton more in common personality wise than Eddie would care to admit. 

Richie breaks from his thoughts to look across the table at Eddie. Eddie who glances up with expectant eyes. Richie realises with dread that he’s going to have to give his opinion on the meal. He wants to make a joke. To say something like: _Yeah Eds, this would be perfect for my grandma, real easy on the dentures because it has the consistency of tapioca pudding._ But he can’t gauge Eddie’s mood. Hasn’t been able to since the whole 'divorce' thing had come up. So instead he says: “It’s good Eds.“

Eddie gives him a hard stare, one that makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

“No it’s not. It’s garbage.”

“What are you talking about it’s fine.” 

“It’s awful.” 

Richie groans. He can’t hold it in anymore. “... It does kinda look like barf.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “There it is.”

“You started it.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’ve been like, holding back when you’re usually just, I dunno, an asshole, when I fuck up.”

Richie prods at his soggy pasta with his fork. “I didn’t know if-“

“Just be you okay. For fuck sake I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. I just need you to be _you_. Got it?”

When Richie looks at Eddie there’s something pleading in his gaze, and Richie realises they don’t have to become different people for each other. By softening his attitude he’s playing into Eddie’s fears that things have changed completely. Eddie needs Richie to be who he’s always been. 

Richie nods. “How about I clean this up and you can order us a pizza.”

“Sounds fantastic.” 

Richie digs his fork into the mess in his bowl and lifts it, letting the sauce and carbs slide off of the prongs to slap wetly back onto the mound of mush.

Eddie giggles. “Oh Jesus Christ dude. You were really gonna eat that.” 

Richie laughs. “I really was, I just love you that much I guess.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but his voice softens against his will around the words. He makes sure he isn’t looking directly at Eddie but as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth he can’t help but glance up. Eddie’s eyes are soft, expression mostly unreadable but he looks... Happy. 

Richie breathes an inward sigh of relief. 

Another loaded silence. 

But Eddie fills it forcefully. His words a little too sharp. 

“What pizza do you want?”

***

Another night of junk food and laughing too hard, at each other and then at the comedy show Eddie sticks on while they eat. 

Once the pizza has been devoured and they are both full and on the verge of a food coma, Eddie shifts. He lays on his back, propped up against a mound of pillows at one end of the couch and then he throws his legs right over Richie’s lap. 

Richie suddenly forgets how to breathe. 

“You take up too much room,” Eddie grumbles. 

“So I’m your personal footstool now?”

“Yeah, got a problem with that?”

“No, since I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Good!” 

Eddie settles and Richie doesn’t dare move, one arm clamped to the back of the sofa and the other stuck stiff to the arm rest. He tries to focus on the TV but all he can register is the warm weight of Eddie’s legs, the way his toes curl in his socks when he laughs. 

He remembers then. The hammock, Eddie climbing in and sprawling over him like Richie was some sort of seat cushion. Laying side by side in the grass together on the hottest days in summer talking about nothing in particular. Backyard camping at Bills where they’d share the same sleeping bag and whisper to each other until one of them fell asleep. Richie hadn’t minded the casual closeness then, despite his growing feelings, he felt comfortable enough to rest his hands on Eddie’s ankles or legs in the hammock (mostly to avoid being kicked in the face), to be pressed along his side in the grass or back to back in that sleeping bag. Every interaction was easy and they’d been inseparable, they’d be in each others faces all day long and it never felt like things should be any other way. 

It feels like that now, like there’s nowhere else either of them should be but here. But there’s the yawning stretch of time between them that makes Richie nervous. Up until yesterday Eddie was married, to a woman so now he has to wonder, is it okay to be this close? To _want_ to be close when Eddie doesn’t know how he feels.

Eddie snores softly while Richie is coming down from his internal panic attack and Richie manages to relax somewhat. It’s like they’re picking up where they left off. So maybe he’s overthinking things. As usual. He should just be careful to give Eddie the space he needs and keep necessary boundaries. 

Carefully Richie eases up and out from underneath Eddie’s legs. He pulls the fluffy blanket thrown across the back of the couch down and lays it gently over Eddie, tucking it around him. Eddie gets cold easily.

As quietly as he can manage Richie turns off the tv and collects the plates and pizza boxes, pausing in the doorway before turning off the light and heading to the kitchen. 

“G’night you little turd.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter: The losers go to 80s night.


End file.
